


Miles to Go Before I Sleep

by jesileigh



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Depression, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, PTSD, Rough Sex, Shower Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 01:49:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesileigh/pseuds/jesileigh
Summary: 6.11 Missing SceneOliver returns from wiring the ten million dollars to Cayden James defeated, out of control and broken. Luckily, Felicity knows how to put him back together again.





	Miles to Go Before I Sleep

It’s late. Incredibly late. What could have been a simple text to Thea had turned into what Felicity could only liken to a walk to the gallows for Oliver. He had gone to City Hall to give the word to wire ten million dollars of the city’s money to a random bank account at the bequest of Cayden James. It was that or watch the city go down in flames (again) and Oliver couldn’t risk that. The citizens of Star City had been through far too much, and ten million dollars was a small price to pay to keep them as safe as possible for one more day. 

 

Even still, his office was a mere five minutes from his... _ their _ ...apartment yet it had been well over three hours since he had left with hardly a goodnight to his son or his wife, too lost in his own head. Felicity had simply squeezed Will’s shoulder and smiled to herself when her stepson hugged her tightly around the middle and asked with hopeful eyes if she wanted to read with him until he fell asleep. The sci-fi novel he’s currently in the middle of was a favorite of hers at age twelve and one he’s reading at her suggestion, so it doesn’t take much convincing.

 

It’s why she finds herself slightly slumped over with a pain in her neck and a book on her lap in the chair next to William’s bed an hour later, the boy lightly snoring beside her. She sits up and twists her neck to the right and then the left, sighing as it cracks and pops back into place. After she stands up and stretches, she pulls the blanket up to Will’s chin and smooths a hand over his hair ever so gently, then shuts the light off and slides his door closed behind her.

 

She takes her time going through her usual nightly routine of washing her face and brushing her teeth. She slips out of her dress and into some pajama pants and a tank top before pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in. She checks her phone as she plugs it in, her stomach sinking when she sees no messages or calls from Oliver, and she knows she isn’t going to fall asleep until he’s home and in their bed next to her. So she waits. She tries a few rounds of Words with Friends, but her heart isn’t in it and she loses by an embarrassing amount of points before she absentmindedly scrolls through her usually-forgotten instagram account instead. Her breath catches and she grins when she scrolls down and sees the only photo posted from the day she and Oliver had gotten married. 

 

They had made it home from Central City and holed up in their old bedroom at the loft for several hours, consummating their new marriage. When they had fully worn each other out, they’d ventured downstairs to open a bottle of sparkling wine and toasted to the new chapter in their life together. They had eventually migrated to the couch to cuddle in front of the fire and Oliver had lamented not having a ring to give her. More than a bit tipsy at that point, she had jumped up and retrieved the metal muselet from the bottle of champagne they’d opened, pulling the wire apart and handing one piece to him as she twisted the other into a crude circle. Once he understood what she was up to, he set to work himself, creating a far more polished ring out of his piece of wire than she ever could have, even without three glasses of bubbly in her system. 

  
With quiet smiles and soft, easy kisses, they had slipped the makeshift rings onto each other’s hands (and Oliver had only winced when his pinched him). Then Felicity had grabbed her phone in her right hand and her champagne glass in her left, goading Oliver until he picked up his own glass and held it up to hers in a toast, their rings front and center as she snapped a photo, posting it with the caption “ _We did a thing?”_. In the moment she hadn’t considered the consequences, nor had she anticipated her phone blowing up with notifications that everyone from Thea to her mother to her college friends and even the local news were commenting and losing their minds over this bombshell she’d so nonchalantly dropped on them via social media. She was too busy climbing atop her new husband and initiating round four to notice.

 

Felicity swallows the lump in her throat as the memory plays out in her mind. She glances at the clock on her bedside table and frowns again, wondering where on earth Oliver could be. Hoping he was just taking a moment to consider how he would proceed tomorrow, before he would be expected to wire yet another ten million to Cayden James. She’s just about to dial his number when she finally hears the door open and close. He’s trying his hardest to be quiet and sneak in, so he isn’t expecting it at all when he slips into their bedroom and she’s sitting up waiting for him. She cracks a small smile at the way he clutches his chest when he startles.

 

“Hey,” she says softly, tilting her head. “I was getting worried.” She notes the way his brow furrows at that, guilt coloring his face. 

“I’m so sorry.” He sounds so defeated. So broken. So exhausted. It makes her chest tighten and her heart hurt to see him this way. “I didn’t mean to--”  
“Oliver,” she cuts him off, her voice so gentle. “Come here.” She pulls the blankets back next to her and pats the bed in invitation. His shoulders slump forward and he shuffles across the floor to sit next to her, burying his head in his hands. Felicity rises up on her knees and scoots so she’s behind him, her fingers starting to knead circles into his stress-tightened neck and shoulders. She doesn’t say anything at first, opting instead to press kisses to the skin of his neck that’s now red from where she was rubbing it, hearing him sigh in response.

“Do you think it will ever get easier?” he asks under his breath. Felicity leans in and rests her chin on his shoulder, her arms snaking under his arms and around his chest as she presses herself flush to his back.

“Do you want me to tell you what you want to hear or do you want what’s most likely the truth?” she whispers against his neck.

“Well, I did marry you for your honesty,” Oliver says, and she grins because if he’s trying to be funny it’s already a step in the right direction. 

“And here I thought it was for my trust fund and my famous last name,” she teases, and he doesn’t respond, but she does feel him huff with a small attempt at a chuckle. “I hope it gets easier,” she finally says, sobering a bit. “But you will always put your whole self into protecting the people you love and the people of this city. And along with that comes taking the outcome personally when things don’t go to plan. It’s just who you are. And it’s what makes you the best father, husband, brother, mayor and vigilante your family and your city could ask for.” She pauses when she hears Oliver take a deep breath, waiting for him to respond. When he sighs and shakes his head instead, she plants a trail of kisses down the back of his neck and then nuzzles her nose against his hairline, breathing him in.

“We did our best tonight,” she insists, letting her fingers card through his hair. It’s more salt and pepper than usual lately and honestly she is  _ here _ for it, despite the bit of insecurity he harbors about it. She doesn’t understand  _ why _ , but she’s also only 28 while Oliver is honing in on 33. Maybe in a couple of years it will make sense; right now she just thinks it’s downright sexy.

“It wasn’t enough,” Oliver nearly growls, bringing her attention back to the moment and the conversation they’re having as his shoulders tense up again. 

“Sometimes it won’t be. This wasn’t the first time and it won’t be the last time that we don’t come out on top. So we dust ourselves off and we try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And on and on until we don’t have to anymore. Because that’s who we _are_ and that’s what we _do._ ” She accents her words with a couple of playful pokes to his sides for emphasis, smiling into his shoulder when he groans and acts like it actually hurts him.

“Ow,” he huffs, craning his neck so he can look at her. She grins and leans in to kiss his cheek, then his nose, then his lips. His eyes close in contentment and she knows he is taking a second to savor the moment--something he’s been doing a _ lot _ since they got back together, it seems. When he opens his eyes he’s nearly got hearts in his eyes as he looks at her. “I love you so much,” he sighs. 

“I love you too,” Felicity assures him. “ _ So _ much.”

“I’m sorry I had you up worrying,” he adds. “I just sat at my desk for the longest time feeling sick to my stomach after Thea left and--did William get to bed okay? I felt terrible having to leave again after everything that happened today.”

“He’s just fine. I made sure he brushed his teeth and then we read a few chapters of his book until he fell asleep. B-T-Dubs that chair is incredibly uncomfortable to accidentally fall asleep in and--”

“You fell asleep reading to William?” Oliver asks, sounding dumbfounded.

“Well, technically I think he fell asleep first. It was a long day for everyone,” Felicity says in her own defense. “Is that okay? I mean, I assumed that it was okay for him to stay up a little bit later because something tells me his school is going to be closed tomorrow due to, you know, the terrorist attack on the city. And I know all the parenting books say consistency and routine is key but after everything that happened today I just thought it might be okay because it kind of seemed like he needed--” Oliver interrupts by cupping her face and pulling her to him for a deep kiss, catching her by surprise. When he finally pulls back, he doesn’t say anything at first, but she doesn’t miss the way his eyes have gone shiny nor the way he swallows the lump in his throat.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asks in awe. Felicity smiles shyly and gives a small shrug as Oliver adds, “Thank you. Thank you for everything. I just...I couldn’t do any of this without you and--” his voice cracks a little. “Just...thank you.”

“Like I told your son tonight, you make sacrifices for all of us so we can do the same for you. I guess that means that sometimes he’s stuck with me for a few hours,” she adds with a wink. Oliver shakes his head at her. 

“I shouldn’t be surprised that your speeches work on him as well as they work on me,” he says. “You tend to have a way with words.”

“Just one of my many talents,” Felicity says, wiggling her eyebrows at him. He groans at that and rubs a hand over his face.

“Why don’t you get some sleep,” he suggests, stealing a quick kiss.

“What about you?” she asks, concern etched into her features. “I don’t even know how you’re still awake right now.”

“I think I’m going to take a shower quick,” he explains. “I don’t think I could fall asleep right now if I tried. I’m still feeling kind of...worked up over how everything went down tonight. I think the hot water will help.” Felicity nods and presses her nose to his until he leans in to capture her mouth with his own again. Her eyes stay closed as he pulls away from her, the bed shifting as he stands and heads to the bathroom.

In the next room the water turns on and Felicity hears the curtain rustle as Oliver opens it and closes it when he climbs into the shower.   
  
She’s exhausted. The kind of bone-deep exhaustion that she knows can’t be triumphed over no matter how many shots of espresso she takes in her latte tomorrow morning. But she also knows that despite Oliver being the same amount of exhausted (probably twice as exhausted because he’s actually out physically fighting the bad guys instead of just sitting at a keyboard like her) he won’t sleep tonight. He’s worked up and anxious and that means that even with the hot shower he will spend the night tossing and turning until he gives up and spends the rest of the night mindlessly watching movies on mute in the living room. Anything to keep himself occupied before he spirals out of control into a full blown panic attack. 

 

Because that’s what all of this boils down to: Oliver isn’t in control. He can’t control Cayden James or his merry band of villains. In this moment he is completely at their mercy. And just like with Adrian Chase and Ra’s Al Ghul and Damian Darhk and any other big bads they’ve struggled with, that suffocating feeling that there is nothing he can do to stop them is getting to him. It’s like he’s in a room filling with water and he’s helpless to stop it. And in turn it makes Felicity feel helpless because there’s next to nothing she can do to help him find solid ground again. 

 

It took them months after Oliver’s stint with the League of Assassins for her to find something that could help him when his anxiety began to spiral out of control. She eventually found that giving him something to do where he could be entirely in control of things helped a lot.  Even more so if it was something that helped him expend his anxious energy. They would spar on the beach sometimes, with Oliver teaching her basic self-defense moves. Other times they’d go for a hike together. It was in Ivy Town that Oliver discovered that jogging every morning was helpful in getting his mind right before the day even started.  It’s with that in mind that she rises from the bed and heads for the bathroom, stripping off her clothing as she goes.

 

She knows better than to sneak up on Oliver. Even on one of his good days it’s a terrible idea and on a day like today surprising him would only end with her hurt and him feeling guilty. So she makes the action of opening and closing the bathroom door as noisy as she can to alert him to her presence before she pulls back the shower curtain just enough to step into the tub behind him. He finishes rinsing the soap from his hair before he turns to face her, allowing her to move closer so she is under the warm spray of water too instead of shivering just outside of it. Her fingers trail over his chest and down his sternum, tripping over the scars and bruises both old and new as she goes. She pays special attention to one scar in particular--the one from where his bratva tattoo had been burned off by Adrian Chase. She presses her lips to the marred skin ever so gently, making Oliver’s breath hitch. She pauses, worried that she may have triggered him, but a moment later he’s got his finger under her chin and he’s tilting her face up so he can kiss her. 

 

He’s tentative, holding back, waiting for her to take charge of the situation. But that’s not what this is about, so she pulls back and looks at him. 

 

“Tell me what you need,” she coaxes, her hands sliding from his shoulders down his arms and then back up again. 

“I d-don’t--” he breathes, hesitation making him stutter. She presses one finger to his lips to quiet his worry. 

“I’m yours,” she assures him. “Whatever you need. I’m yours.” He holds her gaze and she nods her encouragement, urging him on. Finally he gives a stilted nod of his head and his fingers interlock with hers before he’s slanting his mouth over hers. The kiss is demanding and heated and she squeezes his hands in response as she whimpers against his lips under the weight of everything surrounding them. 

  
The subtle cue must be the permission he was waiting for, because suddenly he’s turning her so her back is against the shower wall and her hands are pinned above her head. His thigh finds its way between her legs, holding her there so she can’t move an inch unless he allows for it. The idea that she is completely at his mercy causes a swooping sensation in her belly and her core clenches when he presses up against her, her nipples hardening almost painfully when they drag across his chest.

 

The way he’s kissing her is hungry and desperate and it leaves her absolutely breathless. It’s like he’s allowing himself to turn off his brain and simply act on pure, raw instinct, devouring her like a starving man. His mouth finds her neck before he makes his way down to her shoulder, leaving nearly-painful bites in his stead. She gasps at the sting of it and moans when his tongue darts out to soothe the angry red marks he’s left behind on her porcelain skin. She’ll have to use quite a bit of makeup to cover the bruises tomorrow but she can’t bring herself to care because this is exactly what she was hoping for when she joined him: for him to take control and take whatever he needs from her in this moment. 

 

Without warning he’s lifting her up so she can wrap her legs around his waist. He takes another step forward so that he can press her even harder against the shower wall and she mewls when she feels his hardness press against her sex. He reaches down to take himself in hand and looks to her. 

“Yes, please--” she pleads with him. “Take me.” 

Their lips and tongues meet in another frenzied kiss just as he presses forward with a grunt, filling her in one quick thrust. She cries out, her moan tinged with pain from not being quite physically ready to take all of him like this. Oliver freezes at the sound and pulls back to look at her, panic and guilt in his eyes, but Felicity cups his face in reassurance, her thumb stroking over his cheek. 

“I love you,” she all but whimpers, and Oliver swallows hard, breath catching in his throat. His own hand comes up to hold Felicity’s cheek and he leans his forehead against hers, his eyes fluttering closed. 

Oliver takes another breath and buries his face against Felicity’s neck, his arms wrapping around her to hold closer still. He braces himself, widening his stance so he won’t accidentally slip and then he begins with a slow rhythm, pulling out just enough before pushing back inside of her. Felicity’s fingers slide into his hair and hold on, tugging on it just a little to show her disapproval of his gentle, careful pace. 

“Oliver, please,” she begs. “Let go. You don’t have to hold back.”

“Don’t want to hurt you,” he manages.  
“It’s okay,” she insists. “You’re not going to hurt me. I can take it. Just let go, Oliver...take me.” She can feel the way his jaw tightens as he grits his teeth then. She gives one last yank to his hair, just this side of aggressive, and she hears him growl in his throat when she does. 

 

Finally he pulls out until just the tip of his cock remains inside of her before thrusting back inside with all the force he can muster. She cries out again, this time in relief and pleasure, and wraps her arms around his shoulders so she can hold on tightly. He continues with his punishing pace for some time, pausing only briefly to adjust his stance and keep them both upright. They’re both so wrapped up in the moment that neither of them notice the water getting lukewarm. It isn’t long before Oliver’s hips start to stutter and he begins to lose his rhythm. Felicity knows that he’s close but he’s desperately trying to stave off his climax, waiting for her to catch up.

 

“Need you to come,” he pleads breathlessly. “Touch yourself, Felicity.” She nods obediently and he pulls back far enough so that she can slip a hand between their bodies, finding her clit and pressing two fingers against it. She rubs in quick, tight little circles, sparks exploding behind her eyelids at the sensation. 

“Oh--” she groans and he grasps her even more tightly, pounding into her with all the strength he has left. Every thrust is accented with a cry from one or both of them. 

“Come for me,” he begs. “Come for me, please...Need to feel you, Felicity.” Felicity nods wordlessly and her fingers move faster, her hips thrusting down to meet him.

 

Her orgasm takes her by surprise. There’s no warning signs, just a sudden explosion and a breathy cry as it washes over her in wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure. She’s only partially aware of the moment when Oliver joins her--his thrusts stopping as he reaches completion, his cock throbbing inside of her and coating her walls with his seed. As her own climax ebbs, she finds the presence of mind to open her eyes and take him in--there is nothing more beautiful to her than the way he looks when he’s lost in the pleasure he finds in her body. It’s intoxicating and addicting and she would give anything to be the source of that comfort and that ecstasy for the rest of his life. 

 

It takes Oliver a bit longer than usual to recover, finally his nervous energy is spent and his exhaustion is settling in, taking a toll on him. He lowers Felicity to the ground, both of them whining a little at the loss as he slips out of her. Once she is on her feet, he helps her steady herself, but he keeps his face buried in the crook of her neck and she holds onto him tight, thankful that he finds solace in her embrace. This man who had been trained by life for so long to fear the touch of another person so easily lets down his guard around her and it is something she swears to herself that she will never take for granted. 

 

“Water’s getting cold,” he grumbles against her skin, making her laugh. 

“Maybe we should get out of the shower and into bed,” Felicity suggests, pushing back on Oliver’s shoulders until he’s out from under the spray, but then suddenly she’s the cold one, so she reaches behind herself to turn off the water. 

“Sounds good to me,” Oliver agrees, stifling a yawn. Felicity pulls the shower curtain back and Oliver steps out first, offering his hand to assist her as she climbs out. They towel off in silence, both too tired to make conversation, and they fall into bed a few moments later with wet hair and no pajamas. 

 

Oliver turns so he’s laying on his stomach and hugging his pillow, nose to nose with Felicity, and he offers a sleepy smile.

“I love you,” he declares.

She reaches for him and snuggles closer, her nails gently scratching his back in a soothing pattern. The sensation has his eyes fluttering closed in moments as he finally relaxes, her touch calming him.

“I love you, too,” she says, her lips finding his for one last kiss. She yawns and lets her own eyes close once she’s certain Oliver is drifting off and the two of them finally fall fast asleep.

  
  
  



End file.
